


Fleeting Touches

by RhineGold



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold
Summary: Rush has an admirer who frets about his well-being.
Kudos: 1





	Fleeting Touches

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on a prompt from Yarking.
> 
> (Written in 2012)

He had always liked Nicholas Rush. Most days, he figured he was the only one who really did, especially now, especially here. 

His role on the Destiny was simple. He got up, he did his job, stood his station throughout the day, and retired in the evening. No muss, no fuss, he often said. But Rush… RUSH was IMPORTANT. 

Rush’s job was never a dull moment, and never the same moment twice. It was always something, something drastic, something important, that sent the man flying from one end of the viable zone to the other, banging on consoles and typing like a tornado and crawling through ducts with tools in his teeth. 

Once on his shift off, he’d come upon Rush buried up to his thighs in a hall console, one knee kicked up, the other twisted to the side as though broken. He could hear Rush muttering to himself in a dark tumble of accent that sounded like cursing, or perhaps even a plea. He’d leaned against the wall, watching, arms crossed to his chest as Rush continued working, his litany occasionally punctuated by a yelp or a clang of metal on metal. 

Finally, Rush had come scooting out, surprised to see he had company. His hair had been sticking up, charged by some static electricity or worse, to float around his head in a messy, inexact orbit. His eyes had been wider than usual, adjusting to the light after having spent god-knows-how-long in that cramped space. He was filthy, grease smeared across his cheek and forehead, grit in his stubble and darkening his throat.

He had never looked more beautiful. 

Finally, he’d arched an eyebrow, his expression simultaneously challenging and exhausted, and that soft voice had murmured, “…See something you like?” in a manner too obscene to be teasing. 

He’d snickered appreciatively, uncrossed his arms, and all-but fled the hallway. 

Now it was dark in Destiny’s halls, the long night after a longer day. They’d almost died again today, but that was sadly not terribly original anymore. Most of the crew had become numb to the idea of being instantly blotted out, confident in yet another eleventh hour save or just not caring either way. 

His long shift over, he made his way through the halls, the lights tuned low to conserve power for repairs, intending to head to his quarters for a few hours of exhausted sleep. Instead, he found himself outside the Apple Core, hand trailing faintly along the cool wall. 

Lights on in the open Control Interface Room called him in, and in his gut, he knew what he would find as he rounded the last bit of corridor. 

Nicholas Rush leaned over one of the consoles, one arm bent, cradling his head, fingers fisting in his own hair. His right arm curled around this, hugging against his left shoulder. His shoulders rose and fell in a tense, tight motion, but he did not otherwise stir. 

He realized eventually that Rush was asleep on his feet. 

Glancing at the screens, he could see the console had powered down, meaning Rush had been out for a few minutes at least. Gently, he reached out, ever-so-slowly, letting his hand smooth over his shoulder. Rush’s arm slipped off and he slumped downward in a controlled, almost gentle fall, curling further onto the console as though it were a particularly unwieldy pillow. 

“Dr. Rush…” He whispered softly, shaking him as gently as he could. “Dr. Rush, you really shouldn’t sleep here…” The muscles under his shoulders were incredibly hard, trembling noticeably with tension. The man did not stir. 

Still gentle, he lightly squeezed and released the muscle there, dragging a soft sound from the other man’s lips. Rush stirred faintly, but did not wake. Suddenly determined to hear that sound again, he repeated the action, earning a breathy groan. 

Moving slowly, as though calming a frightened beast, he raised his other hand, taking both of Rush’s shoulders in his own now. His own hands were delicate despite his size, years of fine labor and careful prep work having fine-tuned them well. With each gentle rotation, a catch-and-release against the strained muscles, Rush loosened up and went a bit more limp. The noises he made were surely a sin of some kind, quiet, almost desperate gasps and long, low sounds that could only be described as moans. 

At one point, Rush seemed to shift under his hands, and he knew he was, at least partially, awake. He continued his ministrations and Rush did not raise his head, his hair still obscuring his face. The sounds were more muted now, to his sorrow, but Rush could not contain them entirely. He began to press harder, digging deeper, just to hear those sounds again. 

Finally, the last kink, a particularly snarled one just to the top of Rush’s right shoulder, gave way. Rush’s arm snapped down at the elbow and he bowed to press his head to the cool surface of the monitor. 

With one last squeeze, he pulled away from the dazed and exhausted man, his hands leaving his body only as he stepped out of reach. Before Rush could turn and see him and make things unbearably awkward, he left.

Hurrying down the hallway, he tried to make sense of the feelings in his chest - equal parts elation and sadness and embarrassment and triumph. Rush had melted under his hands. It was something he had dreamt about, since those long, cold nights on windy Icarus. Seeing the smaller man every day, their hands brushing in the mess when Rush came to collect his meals… 

Becker vowed that tonight would not be the last night he touched Nicholas Rush. He would find a way to do it again

**Author's Note:**

> I've heard a rumor that Tumblr is starting to delete blogs with pornographic fiction so I'm migrating my fiction blog's works here.


End file.
